


it's innocence lost

by brophigenia



Series: kavinsky does the gangsey on fire [8]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: "while i'm gone dream me the world", Biting, Come Marking, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Hickeys, Joseph Kavinsky Lives, M/M, Masturbation, Rough Sex, and we don't even gotta talk about adam and ronan, and y'all CANNOT convince me otherwise, just FACE IT, listen, ronan has it bad for the whole gangsey, y'all asked for this, you asked, you cowards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 03:10:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15596925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brophigenia/pseuds/brophigenia
Summary: “In your dreams, Kavinsky—“ Lynch rasped, but his pupils were blown, and K couldn’t take it anymore.(This is what it's come to. Kavinsky has slept with the whole gangsey and Ronan is... not pleased. Then there is sex.)





	it's innocence lost

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all asked me for this. You asked. I didn't even plan on this. 
> 
> But here we are. The goddess of filth is back on her throne of smut and it is TIME to blow ya minds.

“You’re a fucking son of a bitch.” Lynch said, all disgust and disdain. K  _ loved it.  _ It was fucking gratifying, seeing all of Lynch’s  _ everything  _ narrowing in on him for the purpose of trying to pop his  _ great  _ mood. 

“You’re just jealous,” K said easily, because he knew what it was now. He could see right fucking through Lynch, the high hectic color in his cheeks and the white-knuckled clutch of his fists. 

“Of  _ them?”  _ Lynch dismissed the thought with a snort, eyes on fire. He was so  _ pretty.  _ K wanted to mess him up. Wanted to come all over him again, but this time on his  _ face,  _ on his  _ tattoo,  _ in his mouth and in his ass—  _ everywhere.  _ Wanted to mark him. Fuck him up. 

“Nah,” K replied, and could hardly  _ speak  _ for his amusement, hatefully  _ smug.  _ He could feel it in his  _ throat.  _ Fuck. “Of  _ me.”  _

For a second there was nothing but silence, Lynch wide-eyed and stricken, and K could almost feel bad but,  _ well.  _

“Got to fuck all of them, got to break them open and make them  _ come,  _ and you just get to  _ think about it.”  _ He was very nearly chortling with it, mean in the twist of his mouth. Spiteful. 

Lynch took a threatening step forward, and K danced back, his own eyes burning. Brimming with his amusement. 

“You jerk off thinking about it, huh, Lynch? Dick’s so fucking pretty when he comes, and he fucking cried on my dick, let  _ me  _ fuck him, and how long have you wanted to do that?” K jutted out his hips, rubbed at his cock pointedly, jeering with it. “And your boy Noah gives fucking great head, you know that? Not to mention Parrish and his pretty fucking  _ cock—“  _ he was cut off by Lynch’s hand around his throat, squeezing tight enough to strangle. Lynch was so close that K could count his fucking  _ eyelashes,  _ could feel all of him, all those fucking muscles pressed up against him, and. 

And Lynch was  _ hard  _ in his jeans. 

And K’s whole body  _ s a n g  _ with it, with victory and muddle-minded lust and he was overwhelmed. He was  _ overcome.  _ He was breathless and he was so fucking in love with Lynch but he wanted to destroy him, too. Wanted to  _ ruin  _ him, leave a mark. Be the  _ first,  _ so that no matter who Lynch shacked up with in the end it would be  _ K  _ he remembered, when he thought shamefully in the dark about the first time he ever got his dick wet. 

“You’re fucking disgusting, you piece of shit—“ Lynch was sputtering, but K was laughing, he couldn’t stop. 

“You want me so fucking  _ bad,  _ Lynch, just fucking  _ admit it.”  _ K breathed, bucking forward until he was so close to Lynch he could feel the angry puff of his breath on his face. They were the same height. They were so evenly matched. K fucking— he couldn’t  _ stand  _ it, the thought of Lynch running around  _ untouched.  _ Waiting for someone to leave their mark, to touch him, to smudge up all his perfect, lily-white virtue. To  _ blacken  _ him. 

He couldn’t  _ stand  _ the thought of not getting to be the person to tear Lynch’s wings from his virginal back. 

“In your  _ dreams,  _ Kavinsky—“ Lynch rasped, but his pupils were blown, and K couldn’t  _ take it anymore.  _

“Put your hands on the fucking wall,” he said, everything in him  _ settling.  _ Going calm. He felt tranquil. He felt  _ at peace.  _ He hadn’t known peace in years, but here it was now, because it ended tonight. He could flush Lynch from his system. 

Lynch stared, jaw tight, and for a long moment K thought he’d turn tail and leave but then,  _ miraculously,  _ he did it. He  _ did it,  _ shoulders trembling and fingers so fine-boned against the plaster and  _ fuck  _ he looked good. He looked  _ divine.  _ K was gonna have to start going to church again. 

He ran his hands from Lynch’s shoulders down to his hips,  _ slow,  _ all firm weight and pressure, like he might use to soothe a spooked animal. It made Lynch’s skin go goosefleshed. K could hardly breathe, his vision tunneling down until it was only Lynch.  _ Just us.  _ Just for tonight, that would be true. 

Lynch made a feathery sound of protest when K only stood and stared, cracked open like an egg. His blush spread all the way down to his chest, blotchy and strawberry-pink. Fuck. K was on him then, pressed all along his back. He smeared a wet kiss to the underside of Lynch’s ear, blew a little obnoxious gust of air over the skin to  _ feel  _ Lynch’s shudder. 

“Shh, baby,” he whispered, and petted the taut muscle of Lynch’s belly, thumbing over his navel and brushing his pinky along the button of Lynch’s jeans. “Shh, I’m gonna— I’m—“ he couldn’t even finish it, because Lynch had dropped his chin to his chest and the curve of his neck was  _ begging  _ to be bitten. K did it, sucked what would be a truly  _ impressive  _ hickey onto the back of Lynch’s neck, where his tattoo reached nearly up to his stubbly hairline. Lynch’s hips bucked. 

“You’re gonna fucking let me—“ he said, suddenly desperate, and fought to get Lynch’s jeans open, kissing every square inch of that pale throat he could reach. “You haven’t let  _ anybody _ and you’re gonna let  _ me _ — and I fucked  _ all  _ of them, and you want to so  _ bad—  _ I fucked Dick and I got my cock in Noah’s mouth and Parrish let me gag on his fucking  _ dick  _ and Blue fucking  _ Sargent  _ let me eat her pussy while Dick  _ watched—“  _ Lynch was groaning like he couldn’t take it but K knew he  _ could,  _ knew what he  _ wanted,  _ even if he couldn’t  _ say it—  _ “and you want them to  _ see  _ you like  _ this,  _ don’t you, you fucking  _ want—“  _ K was going  _ cross eyed  _ with how hard he was and how good Lynch smelled, starting to sweat, starting to  _ cry  _ with how good it was, and K licked at a tear that dripped down to the perfect ivory line of his strong jawbone— “you want them all to see how  _ good  _ you can be, fucking come, you gotta— give it  _ up,  _ Lynch,  _ Ronan—“  _ and Lynch did, he did, he roared and he came and it was all over K’s hand and on the wall and his heart was thundering and he was sure he was going to die, that you could  _ die  _ from being this turned on with no relief. 

He fumbled at his own pants, hands clumsy with his urgency, groaning. “Take off your fucking shirt, take it off  _ now,”  _ he swore, vehement and with the promise of  _ retribution  _ if Lynch didn’t, but Lynch was already wrestling the tank top over his head. K didn’t wait for him to get it off his arms, because he was so hard it  _ hurt  _ and there was the fucking  _ tattoo,  _ terrible and otherworldly and so  _ dark  _ and there was the tree and the eye and the  _ raven  _ and Lynch was just like him, they were gods, Lynch was like him and he’d  _ let  _ K take this from him, make him  _ come,  _ it was  _ K  _ first and  _ K  _ forever and he felt woozy with it. 

“Fucking  _ do it,  _ K.” Lynch spat at him, voice wrenched up and odd and  _ turned on,  _ choked up, Lynch  _ wanted it,  _ and K was coming, striping Lynch’s tattoo with it, pearly-clear and all  _ over  _ him. 

Lynch’s back heaved; K stood on shaky legs and just looked at him, searing the image in his mind to  _ keep.  _ Forever. He wanted to take a picture but doubted that it could capture the moment as it was, the scent of their spunk thick in the air and the sound of Lynch’s breathing and the perfect clarity that K felt. The  _ grounding.  _ He felt  _ centered,  _ staring at the culmination of  _ years  _ of wanting. 

Lynch had said  _ it was never gonna be you and me.  _

And it wasn’t. 

But somehow that was okay, now. It was okay because Lynch was shaking and his back was striped with K’s  _ come  _ and there would always be a place for K in Lynch’s memory. 

“Kiss me,” K demanded then, playful and petulant, and Lynch flipped him off but turned around and grabbed him by the face and  _ did it,  _ a mean press of soft lips and sharp teeth that left K feeling lightheaded, grinning. 

“You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Lynch.” K said, and laughed. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me @ brophigenia.tumblr.com


End file.
